An Image In My Mind
by Another Writer Who Loves
Summary: Once Dean became a demon millennial's worth of Hell's information was suddenly poured into his mind. Including the knowledge of who the one true king of Hell was supposed to be.


From the moment Dean opened his eyes to show the black and darkness in them there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind.

When he mentioned it to Crowley the older demon waved his concerns away.

"Standard procedure of a new demon." he had told him. "You need to learn about your heritage some way Dean."

While on the road, getting as far as he could away from the bunker and from Sam, the information slowly tricked into his mind, something he either dipped into if he felt something interesting or ignored completely.

He was mentioned a few times, his first stint in hell under Alistair's teachings and he did mentally allow that to go to the front of his mind in slight interest and wanting to know what the other demons were told about him. He was mentioned a second time as the last remaining knight of hell other than Cain at the time.

Sam was also mentioned and Dean fought the urge to listen to anything having to do with his human brother. His name came up again and again and when it got too much to ignore he complained to Crowley about it.

Crowley raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "So you really are reborn, not wanting to know something about your brother." he said with a slight tease to his voice. "Just ignore it, it'll end soon and it's not important."

Crowley was wrong on both counts for that, there seemed to be no end to it and the second Deans mind slipped in keeping the information away it leaked back into his consciousness with a new tidbit of Sam fresh from hell.

Azazel was mentioned a few times as well and Dean did listen in slight interest as well. But always, always, always, it was brought back to Sam regardless of the demon being taught to him.

Dean tried to ignore but whenever there was a slight decrease in his mental shields another piece of Sam from hell hit him once more, forcing him to pay attention and acknowledge his brother and his supposed place in hell.

He couldn't talk to Crowley about this, Crowley gripped to his throne and crown with everything he had and at the slightest hint of disloyalty from any other demon, seconds later they had an angels blade buried deep in their chest.

Not that it would kill him or even do a single thing to him other than annoy him but he didn't want to go to the trouble of healing his vessel.

Instead he went to one of the other lackeys. A demon named Gerald that at times when Crowley wasn't looking he rolled his eyes and had just a slight hint of rebellion clear in him towards the so called king of hell.

Gerald stared at him levelly, raising an eyebrow at him. "He was your brother, we all know that." he told him. "Maybe your humanity is starting to come back."

Dean snorted at that. "Bullshit." he said, letting his eyes flick to black. "There's nothing human left in me."

Gerald shrugged and looked away, eyes roaming over the room towards where Crowley was talking to other demons, not paying attention to them. "Every demon feels it." he murmured, keeping his voice low. "That tug, that desire to go to him. We just ignore it."

"Why? What is it?" Dean asked, doing the same to keep his voice quiet. "Why the hell do demons gives a damn about him?"

"Its not giving a damn, it's hell trying to direct us where to go." Gerald told him. "Hell knows its own."

Dean couldn't help his snort at that, shaking his head. "Sams a demon like I'm a saint."

"It's not about being a demon, he's a part of hell in many different ways. But hell has no claim to him so it can't bring him here." Gerald said with a shrug. "But it still tries through us."

Dean worked his jaw from side to side for a moment. "Why?"

Gerald gave a side glance at him. "You know why." he said. "You feel it too. You're a knight, you're more loyal to the crown and to the king than any of us." his eyes flickered to Crowley again. "Would you be able to bury your blade in his chest and do it with a smile?"

"With utmost pleasure and a song in my heart." Dean said with a smirk, imagining it happening in his mind.

"Would you be able to do the same to your brother?"

At that Dean floundered, his mind coming to a stop for a moment as it tried to create the image as well. He tried to imagine bring the first blade up and thrusting it into Sam's chest, tried to imagine the blood that would cover him.

Instead his mind gave him a different image, him and the blade in hand, swearing fealty to him, and he blinked hard to try to banish it.

Gerald chucked lowly, obviously reading the emotion on Dean's face. "Exactly."

Dean breathed out slowly, letting his eyes flick back to green before he turned and stared straight ahead, his fingers twitching for a few moments. "He'll never do it."

"That's before." Gerald pointed out. "When you were human and there to pull him back but," he tapped at the side of his head. "If you've been paying attention you'll see that he came close quite a few times."

When Dean had going to hell, when Dean had been in hell, when Dean had disappeared to purgatory.

All leading back to him and to Sam and how dark Sam had toed the line in the name of him.

"Whatever you feel, whatever you think, that feeling ain't going to go away." Gerald murmured to him. "Knowing that the king on the throne ain't the right one, wanting to bring the real one to the forefront." he shrugged. "Like I said, we all ignore it. But that feeling doesn't go away."

Dean worked his jaw slightly and then turned, leaving the room and going back to where he had parked his car, needing to get away from everything.

He ignored the almost rumbling under his skin and the ever present, and slowly growing a corner of his mind told him, urge to go to Sam. The tug was more incessant than before, now that he knew exactly what it was and what it meant.

Dean firmly pushed it all to the farthest corner of his mind as much as possible, the image of him kneeling in front of his brother played once more and he tried to ignore it.

He was going to go to the nearest bar and try to drown the images in alcohol and find a nice warm body to fuck tonight. He wasn't going to think about his brother and he sure as hell wasn't going to go anywhere near him.

An image of Sam, yellow eyed and a crown of thorns on his head shot through his mind hard enough to make him wince.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and tried to focus on the road ahead.

**I do not own Supernatural. **

**139/365**

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